Kiss Me
by DinoDina
Summary: It's St. Patrick's Day, and Jack is in the mood, meaning that he wants to kiss Ianto. Janto, Towen, and Gwen/Rhys. Fluff, with maybe a bit of angst at the end. Slash. One-shot.


**Words: 1023**

**Happy St. Partrick's Day. Please note, I am not Irish, Welsh, or Boeshanian. I am a slightly ignorant American, so I might have gotten some things wrong. Also, kissing ahead! And, I've tried to explain and elaborate into understanding everything that I put into this fic, and I really hope that I managed it.**

The cog door opened to a darkened Hub noisily, and Ianto stepped through into the room. His eyes widened imperceptibly in surprise at the state of the Hub. It was silent, save for Myfanwy's faint screeching and the trickle of water into the pool. Jack's office seemed deserted as well.

But Ianto shrugged, turned on the lights, archived the previous day's artifacts, and went up to the Tourist Information Office. Tosh and Owen came in through it, together (and Ianto took careful notice of that), later. It was Gwen's allowed lie-in day, but Jack was still missing.

At around noon, Ianto closed the office, ordered lunch, and went down to join Owen and Tosh, who greeted his with eager grins, a quest for pizza, and annoyances at how boring and uneventful the day had been. Just as Ianto had opened his mouth to agree, there was a loud bang as the door moved aside.

To their immense surprise, in pranced Jack. But it wasn't the prancing that had the three members of Torchwood staring at Jack with wide eyes—he had done that on many an occasion—it was the loud green shirt he was wearing under his greatcoat. And the hat he had on. A bright green top hat that made Ianto want to stab whoever had made it. Repeatedly.

"Hey, kids!" Jack cried up to them, bounding up the stairs to the conference room. "How do you like it?"

"What is it?" Ianto asked calmly, silently cursing whoever had made the outfit.

"My festive clothes," Jack stated, as if it was the obvious. "I've always wanted to celebrate, but I've never gotten around to it."

"Celebrate what?" Tosh asked, confused, as Owen nodded along.

"St. Patrick's Day, of course!" Jack cried.

"But you're not Irish," Owen sighed, protesting despite knowing that he'd never beat Jack down. "Or American."

"I beg to differ," Jack protested loudly, pouting a bit, pointing at the loud 'Kiss Me, I'm Irish' pin he had gotten from gods-don't-know-where.

"That doesn't mean anything, Jack," Ianto shook his head calmly, still wishing he was anywhere but here.

Jack pouted, but didn't push the subject, and went to sulk in his office. However, just as Ianto, Owen, and Tosh had finished lunch, he had run out his office to join them, apparently forgetting the events of the previous half-hour.

As Ianto, Tosh, and even Owen had gone to continue their work, because, for some reason, the secret job of a Torchwood agent involved paperwork, Jack decided to make it his mission, other than avoiding doing said paperwork, to kiss everyone.

Ianto grimaced at his gaudy outfit. Whoever had put it together, most likely Jack himself, had no idea of how to color-coordinate. And it wasn't that which bothered Ianto. It was the way Jack held himself in the almost pre-schooler-esque clothes. Regal. Confident. Like he could do any damn thing he pleased. As far as he knew, behavior like that got people killed.

By the end of the day, Jack had gotten a reluctant peck out of Owen, a less reluctant one out of Tosh, and almost a full-blown makeout session out of Gwen. But Ianto proved to be illusive. He hadn't initiated any of the day's kisses, which, to Jack, was the whole point of the day.

He pouted all the way to Ianto's flat. During the short ride there, Ianto didn't comment of Jack's, in his opinion, childish behavior. However, when they had already sat down to eat dinner, as it was one of those rare days when they had the time to, Ianto finally cracked.

"Why are you acting so. . . so. . . _cranky_ today?" he asked, to his credit, only sounding mildly annoyed.

"I'm not acting cranky," Jack defended. "_You're_ the one who won't get into the spirit of the holiday! And you're kind of grouchy, too."

"'The spirit of the holiday'?" Ianto echoed. "And what would that be? Snogging random strangers?"

"Yes!" Jack cried.

"I'm not Irish," Ianto scoffed. "Or American. Come to think of it, neither are you."

"Well. . ." Jack thought for a moment. "Not exactly."

"What is exactly, then?" Ianto smiled in amusement as Jack tried to pick the right words.

"I'm Boeshanian," Jack explained when he had. "I already told you that. I don't know who, on Old Earth, we descend from, but I do know that St. Patrick's Day is a national—colonial holiday."

"What exactly does it celebrate?" Ianto wondered, and put his hand on Jack's when the older man's face clouded over slightly.

"Perseverance," Jack sighed. "We were a small colony, pretty far away from any outside help. Because of that, we were always under attack. So we celebrated. Birthdays, weddings. . . hell, even funerals! St. Patrick's Day, because of the whole snake thing (I'm not that familiar with its history), became a sort of beacon of hope."

"And you'd use it to mark each year," Ianto finished, catching on. "Both before and after."

"Yeah," Jack nodded, a bit sad. "There would always be the melancholy part. . . the one where we'd mourn the dead and pray for safety. But there would always be the fun part. The dancing, the singing, the kissing. I think I was conceived at one of those parties."

"Lovely," Ianto said dryly, then his voice became gentle again. "Thanks for sharing, Jack. And thanks for not traumatizing Owen too much with your celebrations."

"_He_ kissed _me_," Jack laughed, grateful for the opening out of the painful past.

"Because you promised him a new greenhouse," Ianto retorted. "And you promised Tosh that Owen would get jealous."

"It worked," Jack pointed out. "They were going at it like rabbits in said greenhouse."

"And what did you promise Gwen?" Ianto wondered, no obvious jealousy in his tone despite the question.

"I just offered a peck," Jack defended, and knew he didn't imagine it when Ianto's shoulders lost some of their tension. "I think she just got a bit caught up in it. I heard her moaning Rhys's name."

"Good for him," Ianto agreed. "Now. . . I do believe I owe you a kiss."


End file.
